“I once was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I
see.” ~ (John Newton 1779)
Sadness gripped his heart like a
vice as Paul reminisced about the death of his daughter Ellie less than a month
ago. In all his dreams about her she’s
still active, charming and full of life.
Tears still crept back in some random moments when he least
expected them. Small artifacts bring
memories of the morning she died rushing back: a screaming ambulance; the
deadly intersection; anything with the expiration date JUN 17.
He will forever be a father of four – “Three children
now. We lost our fourth, our oldest, in
an awful car accident.” Time races on. There’s so little time from cradle to
grave. Ellie’s was especially short, but
no one’s is much longer, he thought.
He lost so much that day: a life; a dream; a prayer . . . and
God. Rather than accept a God who allowed
such things to happen, Paul embraced the ‘Great Nothingness’ where nothing is
hoped, so nothing can be lost; where nothing is expected, so nothing can
disappoint; where there is no one to blame when things go wrong. The hollow, empty feeling provided a respite from
pain.
He envied people whose lives, whose childhoods, had always
been rich in faith. They had spiritual
reserves to tap into. If they forget
where those were stored, someone was always close to remind them. His faith had been intuitive rather than
taught. Paul’s religious instruction was
haphazard, absorbed largely through the mysticism of candles and statues and
incense.
He went to her room, hoping sweet memories might just rock
him from his grief. Lavender walls showcased a collage of photos,
some taken just weeks ago. Her face seemed
frozen at thirteen.
A trunk crowded with stuffed animals lay at the foot of her
bed. Shelves were filled with trophies, souvenirs
and the books she loved to read. Ellie’s
cell phone rested among her collection of makeup and nail polish. As he lifted it from her desk, the phone
magically came to life, flashing the last text message she’d sent before she
passed: “Hey Mom, I just wanted to let
you know I’m okay and I’ll be home soon.”
For the first time in his life, Paul understood the meaning
of faith. Life is short, but heaven
awaits. And today Paul was one step
closer to seeing his precious angel in the presence of the One who orchestrated
it all for His good and His glory.
Faith is a mystery; a journey without a map. It unfolds like a rose, sometimes tightly
budded, sometimes in full bloom. When
you think it has withered, it sprouts somewhere else. When you think you've got it figured out, you
discover a deeper layer of petals or a path you never knew existed.
“Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
and mortal life shall cease, I shall
possess within the veil, a life of joy and peace.” Amen
